


twenty years

by nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 16:18:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10880451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare/pseuds/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare
Summary: Makoto and Haru's lives told through twenty years, from 8 years old to 28 years old.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote and posted this fic in May, 2014, and I'll be reposting it one chapter every day (even though clearly it's already completed). I'm reposting some of my old fics from the many accounts I previously deleted over the past few years, so if you're familiar with my fics and want to request that I repost a certain old fave, feel free to message me at my tumblr: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com or comment on this post: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com/post/160488980276/danielles-nezushifree-fics and I'll be happy to consider reposting it! For both my new readers and my old guys, hope you enjoy the fic!! :D

_(eight years old)_

Makoto’s eyes burn, and he blinks quickly enough to catch the tears in his eyelashes.

            One escapes, sneaks halfway down his cheek before he can wipe it off with his knuckles, glancing quickly to his left in hopes that his best friend – now enemy – is distracted.

            Unfortunately, blue eyes watch him calmly, without shame, and Makoto’s lip trembles.

            “Don’t look at me!” Makoto shouts. He means to sound angry, but his voice hitches and is too high.

            “Are you mad at me?”

            Makoto sniffs loudly in response.

            “Why? Because I scared away that cat?”

            “Why did you do that?” Makoto murmurs, having calmed down. He stares at his knees and flicks his fingers against his shoelaces.

            “I don’t know.”

            Makoto glances sideways, and beside him, Haru truly looks confused.

            “You don’t know?”

            “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

            Makoto thinks about this. He nods, after a moment. “Okay. That’s okay, Haru-chan. I’m not mad at you.”

            Haru nods back, looking satisfied and glancing up at the sky.

            Makoto follows his gaze and finds the clouds ridiculously obese.

            “Will you marry me?”

            “Haru-chan?” Makoto whips his head back to stare at Haru, who still watches the sky.

            “Not today, obviously.”

            Makoto waits for further explanation, but does not receive any. He thinks about it – marriage. Since Haru is asking, that must mean Makoto will be the wife. He’ll have to cook, which is good, because if Haru cooked he’d probably only make mackerel. Not that Makoto knows how to cook, but he can learn.

            They’d have to live together, but they sleep over each other’s houses so often not much would change in that respect.

            They’d have to kiss.

            Makoto grimaces at the thought. Maybe they could get away with just hugging and holding hands. Makoto wouldn’t mind that. Holding hands with Haru is nice.

            “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll marry you, Haru-chan.”

            Haru nods at the sky, and Makoto smiles and wonders how he will tell his parents.

**

_(nine years old)_

Makoto inspects his fingertips and finds them to be the consistency of raisins. He grimaces and runs a towel through his hair, leaving it on his head as he looks at the sole swimmer in the club pool.

            “Haru-chan!” he calls, though of course, Haru cannot hear him.

            Makoto walks to the edge of the pool where Haru approaches, on the ending leg of his last lap. His arms slice through the water seamlessly, and his legs kick as if he has not been at the pool for five hours – not the slightest bit tired.

            When Haru reaches the edge of the pool, he surfaces, wiping a hand over his face before he pulls off his goggles and throws them by Makoto’s feet.

            “Come on, Haru-chan, you know the pool is closing.”

            Haru takes Makoto’s hand and allows himself to be pulled from the pool. He is silent as they walk to the locker room, but Makoto fills the quiet with talk on his own swimming that day.

            “And I think my shoulders have been aching because I’ve been slacking off on my stretching recently. Maybe you could show me some stretches, Haru-chan? You never seem to get muscle aches.”

After changing out of their swim suits, the walk home is short, and Makoto’s parents have only recently allowed both boys to make it on their own. Makoto runs out of the building into the sunlight, laughing and spinning with his arms outstretched by his side.

            “Wow, it’s so gorgeous outside, isn’t it, Haru-chan? Look at those clouds, aren’t they really white? Have you ever seen clouds so white, Haru-chan? It’s like a painting.”

            Haru’s steps are even beside Makoto, who often runs forward, but always comes back, grin never wavering despite his friend’s straight face.

            “And you’ll come for dinner, right, Haru-chan? I think we’re having curry tonight.”

            Haru doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to. Makoto responds for him.

            Makoto runs for him, twirls in the sun for him, exclaims at the clouds for him, laughs for him, speaks for him, but never does Makoto think of any of it as a burden.

            Makoto would do anything at all for Haru, he knows this, and Haru knows this, and maybe that’s why Haru stretches out a hand and catches Makoto’s fingers when the boy walks out of reach, pulling him back to match his steps and still not letting go until they reach Makoto’s house.

**

_(ten years old)_

It isn’t their first kiss, but it will be their last, for a while.

            Ten years old is already too old for kisses between best friends, but Makoto does not know this, and neither does Haru.

            “Makoto. Makoto, wake up. Makoto.”

            Makoto wakes with a start and springs up, hitting his forehead and eliciting a soft _Ow_ from the boy beside him.

            “Haru-chan?” Makoto asks, groggy, voice cracking. He feels that his face is wet and wipes his cheeks with his pajama sleeves. His back feels wet too, and the backs of his legs, and his chest.

            He has been sweating, he realizes.

            “You were screaming. And crying.”

            Usually Makoto remembers his nightmares on waking, but now all he knows is that his forehead hurts where he hit it against Haru’s. He reaches out and touches Haru’s forehead.

            “Did I hurt you, Haru-chan?”

            Haru shrugs. His eyes are wide and shine in the light of Makoto’s nightlight.

            “It’s okay, Haru-chan,” Makoto murmurs, and he hugs his friend.

            “You’re wet.”

            “Sorry.”

            “What was your nightmare about?”

            “I don’t remember,” Makoto confesses, leaning back from Haru.

            “Okay,” Haru says, and he lies back down, as does Makoto, facing Haru, whose eyes are already closed.

            Makoto’s cooling sweat makes him shiver, and he realizes he cannot close his eyes as easily as his friend. “Haru-chan?” Makoto whispers.

            “What?” Haru does not open his eyes.

            “I’m scared.”

            A crack of blue.

            Makoto sniffs and shuffles a little closer to Haru, so that their knees bump into each other under the blanket. “I’m scared I’ll have another nightmare.”

            Haru watches Makoto, blinks once, then leans closer. Makoto can feel his hot breath on his lips a second before the wet warmth of Haru’s mouth presses against his.

            When Haru pulls away, his eyes are closed again. “Now you have to dream about me, and it won’t be a nightmare.”

            Makoto isn’t sure if this logic is valid, but his lips are still warm, and he can’t help but feel a bit safer. “Thank you, Haru-chan.”

            Haru does not reply, but Makoto knows he cannot have fallen asleep so quickly already – right?

**

_(eleven years old)_

“Are you guys gay or somethin’?”

            “What does that mean?” Makoto asks, looking up from his lunch at Rin, who is looking from him to Haru. Makoto glances at Haru and sees that his cheeks are red, but he stays silent.

            “Means you love each other.”

            “Of course I love Haru,” Makoto replies easily.

            “No, stupid. Love like the way parents love each other. Like gooey kinda love.”

            “Gooey?”

            Rin rolls his eyes at the apparent naivety of his friends while Makoto glances at Haru and shrugs, though Haru does not meet his eye, suddenly seeming quite focused on his own lunch (which was half of Makoto’s anyway).

            _“Sex_ , Makoto.”

            “Sex?” Makoto repeats, startled.

            “Don’t tell me you don’t know what sex is.”

            “I know!” Nagisa exclaims, joining them by thrusting himself between Haru and Rin, to do which he simply sits on top of Rin until Rin frees himself with scowls at Nagisa.

            “No, you don’t,” Rin argues.

            “Penis in vagina,” Nagisa says smartly, causing Makoto to choke on his juice box.

            “Haru and I both don’t have – you know.”

            “A vagina!” Nagisa inputs, rather loudly, in Makoto’s opinion.

            “Nagisa! Shh!”

            “You guys are both idiots. Two guys can still have sex.”

            “Haru and I aren’t having sex,” Makoto says sternly.

            “Well, _obviously,_ seeing as you’re both eleven, jeez, Makoto, get a clue. What I’m saying is you will _want_ to have sex. Cause you want Haru to be your boyfriend one day, don’t you? So you’re gay. That’s it.”

            “Oh, you’re gay?” Nagisa asks, catching up and peering closely at Makoto as if it’s written somewhere on his face.

            Makoto blinks. “I don’t know. I guess, I mean, I never really thought about it. What do you think, Haru-chan?”

            One look at Haru reveals that the boy is glaring, and Makoto feels his stomach turn. He has upset Haru, and that is never a good thing.

            “Haru-chan?” Makoto asks weakly.

            Haru shakes his head and stands up, leaving his half of Makoto’s lunch mostly uneaten as he walks away.

            Makoto’s reflex is to follow him, but Nagisa’s hand is on his knee, and Nagisa leans close and says, with more solemnity than a ten-year-old should have, “You just have to let him go, Makoto.”

            “What are you talking about, Nagisa?” Makoto exclaims, only staring at him for a second, but when he looks up, Haru is out of sight.

            “You offended Haru,” Rin observes, throwing a goldfish in the air and catching it in his mouth.

            “Me?” Makoto asks, thoroughly confused.

            “Yep. You.”

            “Because – Because I’m gay?” Makoto asks, suddenly nauseous.

            Rin only shrugs. “Dunno. You’re the only one that knows what goes on in that guy’s head, don’t ask me to try and guess.”

            Makoto tries to swallow, but his throat is dry, and his juice box is empty, and everything is suddenly complicated and horrible and all-at-once wrong.

**

_(twelve years old)_

“You can race me, Haru-chan.”

            Rin is gone, but Makoto refuses to let Haru wallow any longer.

            Well, wallow in the only way Haru knows how, which is quietly, without much change at all in his routine or expression but for the slight downcast of his eyes that Makoto, of course, notices while no one else seems to, not even Haru himself.

            Haru looks at Makoto, and Makoto offers a smile, knowing that swimming will take Haru’s mind off things, that racing will get his blood flowing, that water will have his eyes shining again.

            But Haru’s expression contorts in the slightest way, unnoticeable really, but not to Makoto, who can read disgust and is immediately ashamed of himself, though he is not quite sure what he has done wrong.

            “Drop the –chan, Makoto. We’re not kids anymore,” Haru snaps, and he walks away.

            It is the first time Haru asks Makoto to drop the –chan, and for some reason it hurts, but not more than the fact that Haru is walking away from an offer to go swimming, the first time he has ever refused to swim with Makoto, the first time he has ever refused to swim at all.

            Makoto stares at his back until Haru is gone and Makoto is alone, and only then does he speak, quietly, to no one.

            “But we _are_ still kids, Haru-chan.”

**

_(thirteen years old)_

When Haru and Makoto wrestle Ren and Ran, the three Tachibana’s always end up teaming together against Haru.

            It is a tradition Haru consistently seems surprised to find himself assailed by.

            “Three, two, one…Get him!” Makoto shouts, and Ren and Ran detach themselves from his leg and launch at Haru, who is only just catching his breath after being tackled by Makoto.

            “Oof!”

            “We pinned you, Haru!” Ren shouts, from Haru’s legs, while Ran has straddled Haru’s chest and Makoto watches proudly from the side, making sure the twins don’t accidentally injure his friend.

            “You win, you win,” Haru breathes.

            “Do you surrender?”

            Haru nods, though he knows it won’t do.

            “You have to say it, Haru!” Ran objects.

            Haru grimaces at Makoto like he always does, then sighs. “I surrender.”

            The twins giggle and are quickly overturned when Haru rolls over and begins tickling them, after which Makoto has to join in, laughing until Makoto’s mother calls the twins for bed.

            Makoto and Haru retire to Makoto’s bed, and though Makoto is not the slightest bit tired, Haru is visibly winded from his defeat.

            “I’ll tell them not to be so rough on you next time, Haru-chan,” Makoto says, grinning.

            Haru glares at him, and Makoto laughs.

            In minutes, Haru is asleep, and Makoto is content to listen to his friend’s quiet breathing beside him for a little while, but then he’s thirsty, and slips out from the blanket carefully so as not to disturb Haru.

            Halfway to the kitchen, Makoto pauses at the sound of his parents’ voices, and creeps closer until the kitchen table is in sight, making sure to stay hidden behind a corner of the wall.

            “…getting too old to be wrestling and sleeping in the same bed, don’t you think?”   

            “They’re only thirteen.”

            “How old do they have to be, then?”

            “What’s the harm, hon?”

            “Don’t you think this will be confusing for them? Especially after they hit puberty – How will they know what to feel – ”

            “Look, I think we need to trust them, right? They’ll figure it out.”

            “It’s just…Makoto already cares so much about Haru. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

            Makoto has never felt more wide-awake, and now he is angry too. Haru? Hurting him? Haru would never do that, how could his mom say such a thing?

            He almost wants to barge into the kitchen and correct his mother, shout at her for saying such a thing about Haru, but he stays where he is, knowing he’s in the wrong for eavesdropping on his parents’ private conversation (though really, the kitchen table is not a place for private conversations, Makoto cannot help but stubbornly think).

            “Haru would not hurt Makoto. Why would you worry about that?”

            Makoto cheers silently for his father.

            “Oh, he wouldn’t want to, of course, I know that. Haru is a good boy, too good. But when you feel so much for someone, the way Makoto does for Haru, it gives them the power to hurt you in ways that no one else can, without even meaning to. I just worry about my son, that’s all. I have a right to worry about my son.”

            Makoto thinks he has heard enough to keep him awake for a week, and completely forgets about the water as he slips away from the corner at his parents’ ensuing silence and returns to his room.

            Back in bed under the covers, he glances at Haru, who looks so peaceful in his sleep. Makoto cannot imagine how Haru could ever have the power to hurt him, not when he looks like this. He almost has the longing to run back to the kitchen, pull his mother to his room, show her this sleeping Haru and assure her she does not have to worry – _Look at him,_ he would say, _look at Haru-chan. You see? He is so peaceful, he is so kind, he would never hurt me. You don’t have to worry, Mom, you never have to worry, not when Haru-chan is taking care of me._

            Instead, Makoto keeps the sight of sleeping Haru to himself, his own secret, and watches him until he finally falls asleep.

**

_(fourteen years old)_

“Have you ever been kissed, Haru-chan?” Makoto asks, because they are watching a movie and according to the protagonist’s little sister, it’s some kind of crime not to have been kissed at fourteen years old.

            “Of course,” Haru says, as though Makoto is dumb, which he suddenly feels.

            He stares at Haru, who has not taken his eyes off the screen – of course not, as there is currently a pool scene.

            Their shoulders are brushing; they sit side-by-side against the foot of the couch. The couch itself is off-limits, as it is strewn with the laundry Makoto is supposed to be folding, but Haru insisted he was too tired to fold laundry or watch Makoto fold laundry, and besides there was a movie about swimming on TV.

            “You have?” Makoto asks, though he suddenly feels ashamed. Perhaps he should have made his tone less disbelieving.

            After all, it is not that hard to believe. Haru is very handsome – body fit from swimming and facial features naturally so – and he has that quiet mysterious aura girls probably find enticing. On top of that, he’s an incredible swimmer, and even though he hasn’t swum competitively in a few years, that kind of talent is probably just obvious, or something.

            “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, Haru-chan,” Makoto says quickly, quietly, wondering for a second why Haru has not told him when they are best friends, even though that is not really what is bothering him, if he’s being honest.

            “Obviously,” Haru says, still not looking away from the screen.

            Makoto blinks, then pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. He rests his chin on his knees and tries to focus back on the movie, but now they’re in a forest and Makoto cannot imagine how they could have gotten there from the pool.

            “Well, I haven’t kissed anyone,” Makoto says, after a few minutes, not sure why he’s speaking but rationalizing perhaps it is because anything would be better than this silence, anything would be better than feeling like _this_ , this horrible feeling Makoto has never quite felt before and immediately hates.

            “Yes, you have.”

            Makoto looks back at Haru, who is looking at him now, as there is no water in the forest.

            “No.”

            “Yes.”

            “I think I would know if I kissed someone, Haru!”

            “So would I,” Haru says.

            “But – But I never said _you_ never kissed anyone! I said _I_ never kissed anyone!” Makoto objects, thoroughly confused.

            “Saying you never kissed anyone is saying I never kissed anyone.”

            “What does that mean?”

            Haru blinks, looking a bit bewildered himself. At least Makoto is not the only one. “All of my kisses were with you. So how can I have been kissed and not you?”

            Makoto can feel his mouth opening, but cannot find the words to fill it, and simply gapes at Haru.

            Of course.

            _Of course._

            It is not that Makoto has forgotten. He simply didn’t count their kisses from years ago, but now he cannot imagine why they would not count, and he is back to feeling dumb, which is completely preferable to the dreadful awful horrible feeling that seems a bit silly, now.

            Haru lifts an eyebrow at him, then turns back to the screen because the characters have escaped the forest and are back in the pool.

            Makoto hides his smile in his knee until it is a little less wide, and wonders why he is embarrassed by his sudden happiness.

**

_(fifteen years old)_

It’s not that Makoto has never thought about masturbating. It’s just that whenever he has thought of it, he has quickly thought of something else to distract himself.

            In math, however, three of his classmates sitting in front of him see fit to loudly discuss what porn websites have the least amounts of advertisements and what magazines have the best models, and Makoto has no choice but to think about masturbation when ideally he would be thinking about whether to use sine or cosine on problem number seven.

            “Cosine, right?” Makoto asks Haru, weakly, but Haru does not appear to be paying attention to the worksheet either, and Makoto can’t help but wonder if he is listening to the conversation of their classmates.

            “Last night my mom walked in on me, and the damn website froze.”

            “Dude, your hand was in your pants, I don’t think it would have mattered if the website froze or not. You got caught, plain and simple.”

            “Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten caught?”

            “I only do it when they’re not home.”

            “I need more frequency than that! How can that sustain you?”

            “It doesn’t, I’m going nuts, guys, I’m going nuts. Might take a bathroom break in history, if you know what I mean.”

            Makoto peeks at Haru, who is now doodling swim suits on the side of his worksheet, and for some reason feels a bit lighter with relief.

            It is not until that night that Makoto thinks about the math class conversation again. He is in bed, and slips a hand under the waistband of his boxers while glancing at his closed door.

            He closes his eyes and considers that maybe he should be watching something or reading something, but as he has nothing on hand, he settles with thinking about something, and that something happens to be Haru, which is really accidental and probably only because he just saw Haru, so of course the boy is on his mind.

            When he just saw Haru, however, Haru was wearing clothing, and in Makoto’s mind, he is quickly _not_ wearing clothing, or at least, he has just seen a pool, and if that is an indication of anything, it is that Haru’s shirt is about to be unbuttoned, now thrown on the floor, and then his pants unzipped, and it is Makoto who is unzipping them, just a favor to a friend, that is all, and then Haru is in swim suit, and the amount of times Makoto has seen Haru in his swim suit is uncountable, so why does he feel like _this_ now, why is it suddenly different – maybe it’s because Makoto’s hand is in his boxers and his breathing is shallow and Haru decides the temperature is perfect for skinny dipping and Makoto might as well join him and –

            Makoto did not realize he would make such a mess, and stumbles out of bed with his boxers around his knees, digging around for a tissue box and thankfully finding one, wiping between his legs and the bit of the bed sheet it got on and just throwing out his boxers completely and donning a new pair.

            He returns to bed completely confused and strangely empty, and wakes up wishing he had just kept on his dirtied boxers, as now he has to throw out another pair, and why on earth was Haru in his dream doing those kinds of things anyway – could it be…?

**

_(sixteen years old)_

It’s obvious that the girl is pretty, and Makoto would be a fool to reject her confession.

            Maybe that is why he is stammering like a fool when he rejects her.

            “You were stuttering,” Haru points out afterward, as they walk home.

            “Oh,” Makoto groans into his palms, which currently hide his reddening face. He supposes he should be flattered by the confession, but all he feels is nerve-wracked.

            “You’ll get better at rejecting them,” Haru says comfortingly, patting Makoto on the arm.

            Makoto peeks out of his fingers at the teen beside him. “You think there’s going to be more?” he asks, scandalized.

            “Of course,” Haru says, like it’s obvious, which it completely is not.

            Thinking about it, Haru does not seem fazed at all by Makoto’s first confession, whereas Makoto is still thoroughly taken aback.

            “Really?” Makoto asks weakly, dropping his hands and looking at Haru fully.

            “Yes,” Haru replies, simply.

            Makoto has the sudden desire to ask for elaboration of some sort, but he changes the subject instead. “How do you think Rei is doing?”

            “He’s awful.” 

            “Haru!”

            “It’s true.”

            “He needs time. He’ll figure it out. Nagisa definitely believes in him.”

            “Nagisa believes in Santa Claus,” Haru says.

            Makoto would retort, but this is probably true. “What do you think about Rin being back?” he asks, in an attempt to sound casual.

            Haru glances at him, then looks away again. “There’s nothing to think about.”

            “Are you happy, Haru-chan?”

            Haru shrugs.

            It is quiet for a while, until their houses are in sight, and Makoto is about to invite Haru over, as he always does, before Haru speaks.

            “What do you think about Rin being back?”

            Makoto looks at Haru. “I’m happy,” he says.

            Haru blinks in response but says nothing, so Makoto asks Haru to come over, and Haru, as always, agrees.

**

_(seventeen years old)_

Makoto isn’t sure if the kissing really means anything or if he’s just horny, and Haru is horny too, and they’re both available, and the kissing is just a by-product of all the time they have to spare and all the hormones two single seventeen-year-old boys have.

            Well, that isn’t really true.

            Makoto knows the kissing means something to _him_ , but he isn’t sure what it means to Haru. Where otherwise he can read Haru like a book, with the kissing the text blurs on the edges, warps into a foreign language he definitely cannot decipher, especially not when his concentration is turned into absolute mush because his lips are against Haru’s, his tongue is in Haru’s mouth, his hands are on Haru’s waist, Haru’s hands are under his shirt and in his hair – even large-print grade-school Japanese would be difficult to decipher in this mindset.

            It started innocently enough, at another sleepover where they were simply lying there and then they were simply kissing; who kissed who is really hard to tell, but they both kissed back and that’s all that really matters.

            And then Haru kissed Makoto in the locker room the next day, which answered Makoto’s question of _Will it happen again?_ and Makoto kissed Haru on the walk home, which answered Makoto’s question of _Is this going to be a normal thing?_ and all the while Makoto’s question of _What the hell is going on?_ was left unanswered and still is, as they kiss in the entryway of Haru’s house.

            Haru presses Makoto against the wall, and Makoto slips his hands up Haru’s shirt, pulls it off, pushes Haru away only long enough to pull his own shirt off. Haru’s hands fumble with Makoto’s belt, and Makoto could make it easier on him, but it’s more fun to make it harder, so Makoto does not pause in kissing him deeply, open-mouthed, full-lipped, and desperate.

            Haru moans, and Makoto swallows the sound, his fist wrapped in Haru’s hair, utterly grateful that there is a wall behind him supporting him, especially when Haru breaks apart long enough to murmur against Makoto’s lips:

            “Let’s have sex.”

            Makoto freezes, and is breathing harder than he’d like to be when he stares at Haru and Haru stares back, unwavering.

            Now.

            Now is when Makoto should ask because he sure as hell can’t read it – _What are we doing? How do you feel about me? Are we boyfriends? Is this just for fun or is this something real?_

            Now is when Makoto should ask, but he does not.

            His heart aches for Nanase Haruka, has always ached for Nanase Haruka. He wants him so badly, loves him so fully, needs him so completely.

            But at this moment he is a seventeen-year-old boy. He is horny as hell, and Haru is so nearly naked and so ridiculously attractive.

            Makoto is also _just_ a seventeen-year-old boy. He is scared as hell, and Haru has the power to hurt him like no other person, and suddenly Makoto remembers his mother’s words in a kitchen years ago, and realizes she was right.

            Makoto can so easily be torn apart by Haru, and when it comes to the possibility of being torn apart or the promise of being filled whole, Makoto has to choose the latter, and so he nods.

            “Okay. Okay.”

            Haru nods back, then pulls Makoto up to his bedroom, throws him on his bed from where Makoto watches Haru strip, even his swim suit comes off, and _shit he is gorgeous,_ so Makoto strips too, and then Haru is touching him, and he is touching Haru, and when they have sex it hurts a little but not as much as the truth could, depending on what the truth is, Makoto isn’t sure and really doesn’t care because maybe sex hurts a little, but more than that it feels _so damn good_ they have to do it three times in an hour just to be sure it isn’t a dream.

**

_(eighteen years old)_

It’s so cliché, but Makoto has not had the courage to tell him beforehand, so there they are at the train station, the train leaving in five minutes and Makoto chewing on the three words he should have told Haru so long before.

            “I’ll call at least once a week, okay?”

            “Sure, Makoto.”

            “Make sure to eat healthy, all right? Not just mackerel, really, Haru, you’re eighteen, it’s about time you learned to eat like a normal person.”

            “Mm hmm.”

            Makoto glances at where Rei has pulled Nagisa after they said their goodbyes, over by the ticket stand where Rei appears to be holding Nagisa back from running over.

            Makoto already said goodbye to Rin, who left a few weeks before, and he asked his parents and the twins if they could do their goodbyes at home, for it would be too painful to leave them at the station, and an unnecessary trip.

            There’s just Haru left, now, and Makoto still doesn’t know what Haru feels, but he finally has realized that Haru does not know what he feels, and that is not okay, not when Makoto is going to Tokyo and Haru is staying here and for the first time in years they will not be next door to each other, they will not have sleepovers whenever they want, they will not be pulling each other out of the pool every time they go swimming.

            “And – ”

            “Makoto. I’ll be fine,” Haru says sternly, and Makoto almost leaves then, almost doesn’t say it because Haru will be fine, and Makoto won’t, and that’s the truth, that’s the truth, that’s the truth.

            Makoto nods. “Yes. Good.” He breathes deeply, and then Haru is holding his hand, and Makoto still does not understand what this means, but there are two minutes before the train leaves and his eyes are burning and –

            “Makoto.”

            “Yes, Haru,” Makoto whispers, wiping the back of his free hand over his eyes and grinning sheepishly in a silent apology for the stupid tears.

            Haru doesn’t say anything, but he keeps watching Makoto, and there’s only one thing left to do, only the cliché thing left to do.

            “I love you, Haru.”

            “Yes,” Haru says.

            Makoto swallows and squeezes Haru’s hand, scared that he’ll pull away. “Not just – Not the way I’ve always loved you. The way – I’m _in_ love with you, Haru-chan.”

            Haru looks down at the hand that Makoto is surely crushing by now, and when he looks back up what is surely an eternity later, much too late to catch that train, for sure, his eyes are bright.

            “I know, Makoto.”

            Makoto nods, and he thinks he is smiling but he isn’t sure, he really isn’t sure of anything anymore except the words he has just given to Haru.

            “You know, Makoto, that I’m in love with you too, right?”

            The train whistles, there is a minute left until Makoto leaves, and he uses it to forget about everything and hug Haru and bury his face in Haru’s shoulder and maybe to cry, but no one can see.

            Haru’s arms are surprisingly tight around Makoto, his nails digging into the back of Makoto’s shoulders so hard that it hurts, but Makoto does not complain.

            It is Makoto who pulls back first, but Haru who says, “You have to go.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Okay.”

            “Haru.”

            “You should go.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Makoto.”

            “I have to go.”

            “I know,” Haru says, and then he kisses Makoto, and Makoto kisses back, tilts Haru’s chin up and kisses him like it will be their last kiss, which ruins the kiss, really, what a horrible thing to think about, what a horrible thing to feel.

            When Makoto boards the train he does not sit at a window, does not look out to see Haru watching him until the train disappears, because he has already given into one cliché, and clichés hurt too much to give into two.

**


	2. Chapter 2

_(nineteen years old)_

Haru is visiting, but he really shouldn’t be because he’s missing school and Makoto has an exam the next day to study for.

            Instead, Makoto fucks Haru for an hour, sleeps for four, wakes up and fucks him again for another hour, then feels too tired to do anything more than lay there and watch Haru’s chest heaving under both of their sweat.

            “You shouldn’t be visiting, Haru-chan.”

            “Mmm,” Haru says.

            They fall asleep again, until Haru wakes up Makoto with a blowjob that is cut short when Makoto realizes he has missed his exam.

            “Shit!”

            “It’s okay,” Haru says. He is still on the bed, but Makoto is pacing. He has been feeling different lately, without Haru.

            Angrier. Older. Hopeless.

            “I’m on scholarship, Haru! It’s not okay! We can’t afford – Forget it, just forget it.”

            “You can make up the exam.”

            “I’m already behind! Shit, Haru!” Makoto is not used to yelling at Haru, but it feels good now, so he keeps going. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come – ”

            “Don’t yell at me, Makoto.”

            “I already can’t concentrate in class and then you come here and – ”

            “You said you missed me – ”

            “Of course I miss you, Haru! How could I not miss you? I’ve spent my life with you beside me and now you’re not, and I’m supposed to be okay? I’m supposed to be happy when you show up here for a day and then leave again? That’s supposed to be good enough?”

            Haru is staring at him with wide eyes, but Makoto does not apologize.

            What does he have to apologize for? It is Haru who has done this to him, who has ruined him, who has made him so hopeless and agonized and angry and _lonely_ , how strange it is to feel lonely, how awful it is, how horrible it must be for everyone who doesn’t have their own Haru-chan’s.

            Makoto is only just realizing what it is to be lonely, and he wants to die for it, he cannot stand it, he has not lived a life in preparation for this feeling to gnaw on his bones.

            “You’re different,” Haru says, quietly, and then he gets dressed and he leaves, and Makoto stares at the door long after Haru is gone and considers for the first time that maybe it is a good thing he is finally being separated from Haru, maybe it is important to learn to be alone, maybe it is about time he did.

            He calls Haru, gets his voicemail, leaves a message saying they have to talk, and when Haru calls him back the next day Makoto breaks up with him.

            “It’s better this way. We should learn to be apart, Haru, I need to figure out who I am without you,” Makoto explains, reading off the paper where he has written these words, holding the phone loosely and almost wishing it would fall out of his hand.

            “Why do you need to do that? Who cares who you are without me? Why does that matter to you?”

            “Don’t you want to know who you are without me, Haru?” Makoto asks, closing his eyes, wishing Haru would just be silent as he usually is, would just let Makoto take care of the conversation like he usually does.

            “I know who I am with you, and that is the only me that I care about, Makoto.” Haru says sternly, and Makoto is weary, does not want to argue, just wants to hang up and lie in bed and not get up, so he does – he hangs up, turns his phone off when Haru calls again, and lays in bed.

            He does not get up.

**

_(twenty years old)_

Haru is not home, so Makoto waits on the steps outside his house. He could text Haru, but doesn’t mind waiting.

            When Haru arrives, both boys are silent as Haru sits beside Makoto on the steps.

            “Are we still just friends?” Haru asks, after four minutes pass without either boy speaking.

            Makoto looks sideways. “Are you mad at me, Haru?”

            Haru does not look at him. “No. If this makes it easier on you, then I’m fine.”

            Makoto nods. “Okay,” he says quietly.

            Haru looks at him, and despite his words, he looks angry. “I fought for you, Makoto. I called you every day after you broke up with me. I left you messages. I came to Tokyo three times and yelled at you but you did not change your mind. Do not just sit here and say okay as if you believe me when I say I’m fine. I am not fine, Makoto, but if I have to be fine for you to be fine, then I will be. Do you understand?”

            Makoto presses his forehead into his knees. “I’m sorry, Haru. I’m sorry.”

            They do not speak again for an hour, and Makoto is almost certain Haru must have gotten up and walked into his house without him noticing, but when he finally looks up from his knees, Haru is still beside him, staring straight ahead.           

            “Do you know who you are without me now, Makoto?” Haru asks quietly.

            Makoto could count every one of Haru’s eyelashes at that moment, if he wanted to, and does want to, he wants to know everything about Haru.

            “Incomplete,” he says, and when Haru looks at him, Makoto kisses him, begs silently for forgiveness, for a chance to count every one of Haru’s eyelashes, for a thousand chances to learn everything he can about Haru, for a lifetime of chances to feel lonely when Haru isn’t there but feel right again when he is, not the wrongness he feels when Haru is lying to him about feeling fine if only so that Makoto might feel fine, which he doesn’t, he can’t, not like this.

            Haru kisses him back.

**

_(twenty-one years old)_

Rei has been passed out for an hour, and Nagisa is running out of space on his face on which to write.

            “Is it a bad idea to write on his dick?” Nagisa asks, giggling.

            “Yes,” Rin says, angrily. He is often angry when he’s drunk, which only makes Nagisa more giggly.

            The other side of Drunk Rin is incredibly sappy, so angry is a relief, the only setback being that he switches moods without warning and frequently, as he does when he slings his arms around Makoto’s waist.

            “Makotooooo.”

            “Ow, Rin, hi,” Makoto mumbles, struggling to stay on his chair.

            “Get off him, Rin,” Haru snaps. He is the designated driver, and Makoto can tell he’s upset.

            “Haru-chan? Are you jealous, Haru-chan?” Makoto hiccups, grinning stupidly at the love of his life.

            “I miss Ai!” Rin moans into Makoto’s neck, and Makoto giggles.

            “Stop, Rin! That tickles, ahh,” Makoto squirms, his arms too weak under the weight of seven shots and two and a half bottles of beer to push Rin away.

            “Guys, the marker is out of ink, and I only drew eight hearts on his butt,” Nagisa moans, from the floor.

            Makoto glances over and sees that Nagisa has strewn himself over Rei’s half-naked (and markered) body and appears to have fallen asleep within seconds after his complaint.

            “Rin, I said get off him.”

            “You kinda smell like him,” Rin whispers in Makoto’s ear, and it tickles so much Makoto is sure he is going to pee himself.

            “Rin! Please stop, ahh, I can’t hold it in!” Makoto cries.

            “Rin, I’m serious. I’m going to take a picture and send it to Nitori.”

            “You think he’ll come back if you did that?” Rin asks, and Makoto can’t quite get a handle of the situation, as it’s taking all of his concentration not to fall out of his chair and not to pee his pants.

            “No, I think he’d dump you for good,” Haru says warningly.

            “I think he’d come back. What d’you think, Makotoooo?”

            “Hm? What?” Makoto slurs, but then Rin is biting his ear, and Makoto yelps.

            “Rin!”

            “God, you taste like him,” Rin whispers, and then there is something wet on Makoto’s neck, and he realizes that it is lips because the lips fall onto Makoto’s mouth next, wet and sloppy and tasting of booze, not the right lips, definitely not the right lips, Makoto attempts to push these wrong lips off but instead pushes himself backwards and he falls off the chair, hard on the ground.

            “Ow,” Makoto groans, from the ground, holding the back of his head.

            “You deserve it, asshole,” comes Haru’s voice from above, and Makoto wonders if he is in Heaven, which he is not even sure he believes in, but if it is real, Haru’s voice would definitely be in it, calling him an asshole like that, making him so ridiculously happy like that, even when his head hurts like hell and he’s pretty sure he’s just peed himself.

            “Ah! Haru, wait, don’t kill me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Rin yells from somewhere near Haru’s voice.

            Makoto grins and closes his eyes, listening to his boyfriend fight for him.

**

_(twenty-two years old)_

Makoto is feeding his goldfish when Haru calls, and he puts down the fish food to pick up the phone.

            “Hey.”

            “Hey.”

            Makoto waits, but Haru does not say anything else, so he sits on the edge of his bed and leans against the bedpost, listening to Haru breathe.

            “I miss you, Haru-chan,” Makoto murmurs, knowing he shouldn’t say these things, but it’s better than bottling them up inside like he did before.

            “I miss you too.”

            They’re quiet again for some time, and Makoto is about to say he needs to study when Haru breaks the silence first.

            “We’re going to get married some day, right?”

            Makoto sits upright, as if Haru is in the room and can see him and would disapprove of slouching during a conversation like this. “What? Are you – Haru, are you proposing? _Over the phone?_ ”

            “No. I’m asking if we’re going to get married some day.”

            Makoto takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and when he replies he wonders why the question was such a shock when the answer is so easy, so obvious. “Yeah, Haru. We’re going to get married some day.”

            “Okay. Good. Bye, Makoto.”

            “Good night, Haru-chan.”

            Makoto hangs up and starts laughing, feeling giddy, happier than he has in weeks since he left Haru at the train station for his last semester away from him.

**

_(twenty-three years old)_

“Where’s the mattress?”

            “What mattress?”

            “The mattress for the bed!” Makoto says, looking inside the boxes near him as if it might have been stuffed in one of them.

            Haru disappears, but returns quickly. The apartment is small enough to be thoroughly explored in less than a minute, what with only two rooms, half a kitchen, and a bathroom the size of a closet.

            “I don’t know,” is Haru’s conclusion, when he returns to the room they have decided will be the bedroom, though it is significantly smaller than the other room. The other room, however, overflows into the half kitchen, which is really just a stove and a fridge and an oven that does not look as though it works, but Makoto does not want his mornings to be more saturated with the smell of mackerel than they have to be.

            “How can we have lost a mattress?” Makoto asks helplessly, thumping down to sit on one of the boxes.

            It occurs to him that he is an adult – _(right?)_ – but he has no idea how to be and thinks he must surely be doing it horribly wrong.

            “This is very strange,” Haru agrees, and then he walks off again, and Makoto is left alone in their ridiculously small apartment surrounded by too many boxes – surely all their things will not fit, they will have to throw some out, what is he even doing thinking he can move somewhere alone and fend for himself, he misses his mother and his father and the twins and it all feels like too much, and –

            “Makoto? Makoto, what’s wrong?” Haru asks, as he has returned and kneels beside Makoto, touching his arm warily as though whatever has got Makoto suddenly sobbing into his hands is contagious.

            “Haru, I don’t know what – what I’m doing,” Makoto sniffs thickly, peering up out of his hands at Haru, who has somehow grown into an adult along with Makoto, and it’s remarkable to Makoto, how time can do such a terrible thing to two innocent boys.

            Haru smiles, surprising Makoto so much he stops crying.

            “You’re starting your life with me,” Haru replies, simply, and Makoto grins so wide he cannot stop, not even to tell Haru that he is wrong, that Makoto has already started his life with Haru years before, that this is just a continuation, just another chapter, another year, and even without a mattress, even without a clue about what being an adult even means, it is perfect.

**

_(twenty-four years old)_

“What are you doing, Makoto?”

            “What am I doing, Haru?”

            “I just asked you that.”

            Makoto opens his eyes and looks at Haru, who is upside down, drops of water flying up from his hair and hitting the ceiling where he stands.

            “You’re wet,” Makoto says because this is a fact, and he’s at the point where saying facts – no matter how obvious – is comforting because at least he knows _something_ , at least he isn’t unsure of _everything._

            “And you’re upside down,” Haru says, sitting on the ceiling in front of Makoto. He reaches out and cups Makoto’s cheek. “Your face is turning red.”

            Makoto sighs. Haru is right – Makoto is the one upside down, and Haru is, of course, sitting on the floor and not the ceiling.

            To be fair, Makoto is not completely upside down. He is lying on his back on their bed, his head hanging off the edge. He was staring at the wall upside down, thinking it looked pretty much the same as normal, when Haru walked in, dripping wet.

            “What am I doing, Haru?”

            “Repeating yourself.”

            “In life.”

            Haru watches Makoto carefully, and Makoto feels as though his head cannot hold much more blood, so he rolls over until Haru is right-side up again and rests his chin on his hands.

            “Maybe I should be a doctor.”

            “Okay,” Haru says.

            “Or a teacher. Rei loves his job.”

            “You don’t like your job?”

            Makoto tilts his head and rests his cheek on his hands so that Haru is sideways now. “I don’t know if I’m making a difference in these kids’ lives. Haruka – you know how there’s a little Haruka there, I told you about her – she just turned thirteen. Thirteen, Haru, she’s a teenager, it’s so hard for teenagers to be adopted. You should have seen her today, she started crying when we sang happy birthday. She told me she’s lost all hope, Haru, and she’s thirteen years old. She’s just a kid, she’s just a kid and she feels completely hopeless.”

            “Makoto – ”

            “I wanted to comfort her, to promise her things will be better – but how can I lie to her? What do I do, Haru? These kids, all of these kids… and then the pair of twins, they’re just like Ren and Ran, and a family came in and fell in love with one of them – just one of them. What about the other? How can I let them be separated? But how can I pass up a chance at one of the kids being adopted?”

            “Makoto!”

            Makoto falls silent, and Haru leans forward to kiss him softly, a sideways kiss.

            “Did Haruka smile today?”

            Makoto blinks. “What?”

            “Today, on her thirteenth birthday, did Haruka smile?”

            Makoto tries to read Haru’s face, but does not understand. “I – Yeah, she did.”

            “When?”

            Makoto lifts his head and rests his weight on his forearms. “She wouldn’t blow out her candles, said she didn’t want to waste another wish. So I told her about when I refused to blow out my candles that one year – I was turning five, I think – because I couldn’t think of a good enough wish, but you really wanted cake so you blew them out for me, and I cried for a half hour.”

            “I don’t remember that.”

            “Of course you don’t. Well, it happened, and I told Haruka, and she laughed at me,” Makoto finishes, wondering what Haru’s point is.

            “You made a girl laugh on what she thought would be the worst day of her life, Makoto, and you don’t think you’re making a difference in these kids’ lives? You knew working at an adoption agency would be tough, but you insisted on it. If you don’t want to work there anymore, then don’t, Makoto, do what you want to do, you know I support you. But if the only reason you’re doubting this job is because you don’t think you are making a difference, then I will not allow you to quit for being an idiot.”

            Makoto stares, then laughs, rolling over again onto his back and looking at Haru upside down.

            “Thank you, Haru.”

            “Don’t thank me for stating the obvious.”

            “It wasn’t obvious to me.”

            Haru’s raised eyebrows are just as skeptical from upside down.

            “Haru.”

            “Yes, Makoto?”

            “Why are you wet?”

            Haru only stares, and Makoto laughs again.

            “I _know_ that you’re an aquarium veterinarian, Haru, but I also know that today was paperwork day, as you have been complaining about it all week.”

            “Well.”

            “Haru.”

            “I visited Rin.”

            “Haru!”

            “He isn’t teaching those kids the correct freestyle form.”

            “Rin is an Olympic gold medalist and world record – ”

            “Not in freestyle!”

            “Haru, please stop interfering with Rin’s work. He complains to _me_ , you know,” Makoto objects, but Haru is stubborn, and looks even more so upside down, so Makoto has no choice but to give up in his arguments, and anyway, he is slightly distracted when Haru starts kissing him, as an open-mouthed, upside-down kiss is probably ranked in the top ten most distracting kisses, Makoto is immediately sure of it.

**

_(twenty-five years old)_

“It’s selfish,” Haru says, and Nagisa nods in agreement.

            “Very rude,” Nagisa contends.

            “Guys,” Makoto chastises, though he too was surprised at the announcement five months before.

             After all, he and Haru have been together the longest, so really it is their right to get married first, not that it’s a competition, but _really._

            “He’s doing this on purpose. Rin always has to be first,” Nagisa says.

            “True,” Haru agrees.

            “Technically, Nagisa and I were first to be engaged, so if this was a race of any sort, the winners would be, as it were, us,” Rei points out.

            Nagisa flashes a triumphant grin. “Ha! Take that, Rin!”

            “Marriage is not a race,” Makoto points out, weakly, but this is the third time, and he knows his friends are not listening.

            Rin and Nitori’s first dance ends, and Makoto is the only one at their table to clap.

            “I can’t believe you guys are bitter about this,” he says accusingly.

            “Statistically, this is absurd. Rin and Ai have engaged in the most fights and frequent break-ups. Their relationship is rocky at best, and marriage will put a strain – ”

            “Rei, don’t even try to tell me Rin and Ai aren’t meant for each other,” Makoto interrupts. It is too easy to see, after all, how head-over-heels in love Rin is with Ai, and how utterly hopeless he is every time they break up. Makoto supposes he cannot blame Rin for hastening to legally bind Ai to his side.

            “Be that as it may,” Rei begins with an adjustment of his glasses, but what exactly his point would have been will never be known, as Nagisa in that moment discovers that there is a chocolate fountain, and exclaims such so loudly that Rei is forced to change his train of thought in order to shush him.

            It is hours later, when Makoto and Haru are dancing slowly, among the handful of the last remaining guests at the reception, when Haru reminds Makoto in a whisper, his head on Makoto’s shoulder.

            “Rei is wrong. We won.”

            “Hmm?”

            “I asked you to marry me when we were little kids. Remember? We were engaged first, so we are the winners.”

            Makoto smiles and presses his grin into Haru’s hair. He smells of chlorine – how on earth he still smells of chlorine when Makoto knows he has been too busy with his best man duties to go in a pool for days, Makoto cannot imagine, but he does and it is gloriously familiar and wonderfully _Haru._

            “Is our entire life going to be a race?” Makoto asks, gently.

            “A relay,” Haru murmurs.

            “A relay? And who’s on your team?”

            “You are, obviously.”

            Makoto chuckles, and the DJ announces that he is wrapping up for the night, thanks the few remaining guests, and reminds everyone to drive home safely, but Makoto does not stop spinning slowly, and neither does Haru.

**

_(twenty-six years old)_

“Makoto, _no_ , I told you already, you’re not doing that.”

            “Haru! Stop arguing with me! This conversation is over – ”

            “Just because you say it’s over doesn’t mean it’s over. I am not going to let you quit your job to do _paperwork_ just so – ”

            “So we can sustain a family, Haru? So we can find some apartment that isn’t a shithole where we can raise a child? Because those things cost money, Haru, a family costs money, and I’m not making enough – ”

            “You love your job! What about the kids, Makoto?”

            “They’ll be fine without me – ”

            “You won’t be fine without them. No, you’re not going to do this.”

            “We’re not children anymore, Haru! We have responsibilities! We have bills – ”

            “We are doing fine – ”

            “I thought we were going to start seriously talking about adoption, weren’t we? This apartment would never get approved, it’s too small even for just the two of us, we can’t bring up a kid here! Any place good enough is going to be expensive – ”

            “No. We’ll find another way. My parents – ”

            “We are not asking your parents. Not when your mom was just diagnosed – ”

            “They _offered_ – ”

            “Haru, I can’t believe you! It’s my decision, okay? I’m giving my notice tomorrow.”

            “Stop it! Makoto, stop trying to protect me!”

            “I’m not – ”

            “Yes, you are. Stop it. All your life you’ve been taking care of me, looking out for me, but you’re not going to throw away a job that you absolutely love, a job that you were meant for, to take care of me, okay? We will figure this out together.”

            “There is no other option – ”

            “Then we won’t adopt for a few more years. It will be okay, we’re still young, you said it yourself, we’re barely adults – ”

            “I’m done this conversation, Haru.”

            “Don’t walk away from me, Makoto. Makoto!”

**

_(twenty-seven years old)_

“If you have vows, you may read them now. Makoto?”

            Makoto clears his throat.

            “Haru. Haruka. You – Shit, I memorized my vows but suddenly I can’t remember – That’s fine, I’ll just make them up now, stop laughing! Okay, right.” Makoto takes a deep breath. He does not know why he is shaking, does not know why he can’t stop grinning, does not know why he is so happy and so nervous when he has practically, as Rin continuously tells him, been married to Haru since he was born.

            “Makoto,” Haru says quietly, and Makoto nods.

            _Yes_ , he is okay. _Yes_ , he is perfect.

            “Haru, I could talk about how you’re my best friend, but you already know that. I could talk about how I’m not me without you, but you already know that too. You know everything about me, Haru, there is no part of me that isn’t a part of you, there is no beat of my heart that isn’t as much for you as it is for me.”

            Makoto can’t look at Haru because then he’ll cry, and he knows Rin has made a bet with Nagisa that he will cry during vows, and if anything, Makoto will not help Rin win twenty bucks.

            Instead, Makoto stares at Haru’s shoes.

            “Haru,” Makoto breathes slowly. “Haru, I depend on you more than the sun to bring every new day. If I looked in the mirror and my reflection was absent, I wouldn’t panic as much as I would if I looked beside me in bed and you were not there.  Without you…God, I don’t even want to imagine life without you. I don’t want to think about it, I never want to live a day of it, without you is without me. There was never an I, Haru. There was always just _we,_ just _us._ ”

            Makoto clears his throat and glances up from Haru’s shoes, and he is not crying but Haru is, and Makoto cannot help but stare.

            Haru is so beautiful, with wet eyes and tear streaks down his cheeks that he does not bother to wipe away, he is so absolutely beautiful.

            “Haruka, you may say your vows.”

            Haru opens his lips but does not say anything. He is still crying, silently, tears following the streaks that have already been made. Makoto watches him, wants to reach out but cannot move.

            He watches Haru breathe, watches him lick his lips, watches him swallow, watches him breathe again.

            “Haruka?” the judge says, quietly.

            Makoto gives Haru a small nod.

            _You are beautiful,_ it says. _You are mine._

            “Makoto,” Haru breathes.

            “Yes, Haru,” Makoto says, before he can stop himself, and he bites his lips in apology, but Haru does not seem fazed.

            “You made me promise not to mention swimming in my vows. I probably shouldn’t break a promise in a vow – there’s definitely something wrong with that, but I think you’ll forgive me. Makoto, you know that I think hypothetical situations are a waste of time, but I can’t think of any other way to say it. If – If I had to give up swimming for the rest of my life just to be with you for a minute, I would – gladly, Makoto – I would never touch water again. Makoto, I – ”

            Haru lips are shaking, and he is crying fully now, unable to speak, only to take shuddering breaths, but he still won’t wipe his eyes, so Makoto does it for him, reaches out and touches the face of his groom, wipes the eyes of his groom, leans closer to his groom and kisses him on tear-stained lips even though he has not been given the cue to kiss him as yet.

            Makoto does not care. After all, he and Haru have always been a little ahead of the rest of the world, falling in love before they even knew what love was, getting engaged before they got to middle school, kissing before they confessed.

            “Marry me, Haru,” Makoto whispers when he pulls away, though he only pulls away an inch.

            Haru nods as if he is only just agreeing, as if they have not been engaged for nearly twenty years, as if they are not at their own wedding.

            Makoto glances at the judge and nods, and in a minute more, Nanase Haruka is declared his husband, finally, finally, _finally_.

**

_(twenty-eight years old)_

Makoto can’t fall asleep because the couch is lumpy, and he has just noticed there is mold growing on the ceiling above it.

            He sighs and turns to check his phone for the time and sees that he has missed a call from Rin five minutes ago.

            It is one forty-seven in the morning. Makoto calls Rin back.

            “Ai is going to kill me,” Rin whispers, on picking up.

            “What?”

            “If I wake him, he’s going to kill me because the baby kept him awake all last night, and for some reason that’s my fault, and now – ”

            “Rin,” Makoto interrupts, knowing too well that when Rin starts going about Ai, he never stops. “Why did you call me? Is everything okay?”

            “With me, yeah. With you and lover boy, apparently not. You’re on the couch right now, right?”

            It’s an instinct to sit up and look around, as though Rin has somehow managed to hide himself in the small apartment.

            “How did you know – ”

            “Nanase just called me. Who calls a person at one thirty in the morning?”

            “You?”

            “Shut up, Makoto, I don’t need your attitude. Look, I’ll make this quick. Nanase is an idiot – of course he is, he’s calling me at one fucking thirty in the morning to talk about you when he could walk across his freaking apartment and talk to you himself – ”

            “Rin – ”

            “Don’t interrupt! He’s an idiot, but he’s your idiot, so deal with it. Stop arguing about bills like an old married couple, jeez, what is wrong with you? I mean, I know you guys have basically been an old married couple since you were five, but come on. You haven’t even reached your first anniversary.”

            “Rin, first of all, you don’t know – ”

            “Didn’t I say to shut up? What I’m telling you is the guy is so freaking in love with you it makes me want to throw up, which is saying something cause raising a baby kind of numbs you to a lot of gag reflexes.”

            “I know he loves – ”

            “Then go make up.”

            Makoto pulls at his hair. “Everyone has fights, Rin.”

            “Yeah, don’t I know it. But most people’s fights don’t wake me up at one thirty in the fucking morning. Deal with your husband, Tachibana.”

            Rin hangs up, and Makoto stares at his phone, looks up at the ceiling, glares at the mold, sighs a few times, then gets up and goes to the bedroom.

            Haru is sitting up in bed, watching him despite the dark.

            “Rin called,” Makoto offers.

            “Yeah.”

            “Said you called him.”

            “I hate fighting.”

            Makoto smiles then wonders what is wrong with himself. “Me too, Haru-chan.”

            “Don’t ever sleep on the couch, Makoto. I don’t care if we fight, I don’t care if I tell you I hate you, I don’t care if you tell me you hate me. Don’t ever sleep on the couch.”

            Makoto walks to the bed and climbs on the mattress he and Haru bought years before at a yard sale. “Okay. There’s mold on the ceiling above it anyway.”

            “I’m still mad at you.”

            “Okay. I’m mad at you too.”

            Haru stares for a minute longer, then nods and lies down. Makoto lies beside him, staring at the ceiling and relieved to find it mold-free.

            “Makoto.”

            “Mm.”

            “Even though I’m still mad at you – ”

            “Of course.”

            “ – you’re my favorite husband.”

            Makoto smiles at the ceiling. “Haru.”

            “What?”

            “Even though I’m still mad at you – ”

            “I know.”

            “ – you’re my favorite person.”

            Makoto peeks sideways at Haru and sees that he is smiling if only slightly, and even though both husbands are mad at the other, they end up having sex (twice), though Makoto rationalizes that it is angry sex, and when he is falling asleep tangled in Haru’s limbs, he rationalizes that Haru is his husband, after all, and more than that, his best friend, so really, mad or not, tangled in his arms is the only appropriate place for him to be falling asleep.

            He has, after all, never been too competent in the art of being mad at Haru – not when Haru chased away the cat Makoto befriended at age eight, and not now – and that has not changed, despite all the things in twenty years that have.

 

THE END


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